


Rost? Ross Loss? You're walking in the woods there's no one around and your p

by Loolin



Category: Tally Hall (Band), Tally Hall Internet Show
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Gen, automated players au, back at it again with the 1-use f word, i do not know what michigan's topography is like and it shows, i wrote this over the course of 4 months and it shows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28599690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loolin/pseuds/Loolin
Summary: a sort-of prequel to my other automated players fic. ap is by quicksilveracethis is the best thing i've ever published, which means a lot less considering it's the 2nd thing i've ever published.
Kudos: 3





	Rost? Ross Loss? You're walking in the woods there's no one around and your p

**Author's Note:**

> well. i can't say i regret making this. but it sure has been a long time in the making huh? i've improved massively as a writer between this & my last fic, if it isn't apparent by how the two are written. i've got a couple other things in the drafts that i could release if people want or i give up on them, either way it'll be some more time. i haven't stopped writing ap stuff but i am moving along to other things *cough cough telly hole cough cough*. anyway blease comment

Today looked to be a good day. It was the first day the band spent at work since the great deactivation debacle, and for once not only Bora and Casey but they as well hoped for a relatively casual and unremarkable day at the museum. Sucks to be them then, because that morning, as the stage was being lit up for an early rendition of Spring and a Storm, Andrew took a brief glance around the stage only to notice something just slightly off in the back. “Hey guys?” he started, drawing their attention to the lack-of-a-thing-to-be-noticed, “Where’s Ross?”

IlIlIlIlIlIlI

Ah, Spring and a Storm. Always a good song to do early in the morning and get his pistons firing- hang on. Ross looks around. Trees, trees, a fern, more trees, gray ceiling, (no, wait) gray sky, a tree on the ground (log, that’s a log), more trees not on the ground, some plants that aren’t trees but could be mistaken for them at first glance; this is probably not the museum. “Hello?” he calls out, still somewhat in shock. No response, save for some thunder that echoes loudly overhead. “HELLO‽” he shouts, his voice weaving its way through the forest- because that’s where he is, in the forest, not the museum, the huge, open, dirty, unfamiliar, and far-from-the-city forest. The forest that looks like it will be rained upon rather heavily, and soon at that. The irony in that the only thunderstorm he hoped to hear that day was meant to come from his drumkit is not lost on him the very different way he’s lost in the woods. Well… nothing to it but to do it.

IlIlIlIlIlIlI

Joe’s first instinct upon seeing that a member of the band was missing was to whip out his megaphone and announce it to the whole museum, as one does. He proclaimed to the crowd, “Good morning, and, our since-erest apologies, but we won’t be play-ying much music for you just now.” He paused to let the crowd get their complaints out of their system, and seemed to not anticipate the secondary effect of Zubin tapping him on the shoulder to indicate he should explain more. Obligingly, he continued, “In fact, we find oursel-lves incapable of playing pretty m-much anything, unless-” he started to turn towards his bandmates while lowering the megaphone.

“No, you can’t beatbox the whole of Spring and a Storm, Joe” Zubin said before Joe could finish, to the amusement of their otherwise increasingly perturbed audience. “You sing in that one” he resolved, apparently trying to settle the situation for himself & the band as well as the audience.

“Now why don’t you tell our lovely fans here why we can’t play anything right now while we get some actual work done over here” said Rob, stepping in to give one last prompt to Joe before getting started on more actively fixing the Rossue, taking Zubin with him.

Joe gave a nod before raising his megaphone up once more to the audience. “The reason we find ourselves inca-apable of performing for all you wonderful people is because,” he paused -whether for dramatic effect or just because he was trying to figure out how to say this, it was unclear- “our drummer is gone.”

To say there was panic would be an understatement. Regardless, it will be said there was bedlam, cacophony, disorder, and unrest in most other ways following Joe’s proclamation. The robot’s own reaction was no more frantic than his bandmates’- that is to say, faintly uneasy and reluctant to show it. Throughout this exchange, Andrew had been crouched near Ross’s drumkit, inspecting the (presumed) crime scene for any clues that might lead to the location of their missing band member. Rob, at some point, had got on the emergency phone & was having a rather roundabout conversation trying to explain what was going on to Bora, and Zubin was trying and failing to help everyone else with their personal tasks. Joe, (currently) confident in his oratory prowess and just about nothing else, decided Andrew’s investigation was as good a place to start helping out as any, as the only other option was talking with Bora, which was something he decided even his talent wasn’t enough for, anyways.

IlIlIlIlIlIlI

Ross doesn’t take long in figuring out a direction to head off in. Relatively speaking, that is. He’s terribly curious as to how he ended up where he was, and with a cursory inspection of the small zone he woke up in he finds some faint tracks in the undergrowth that seem to indicate where he was dragged from in order to get where he is. He can’t help but notice how much easier it (probably) is for him to walk through the underbrush with his metal body compared to how it would be for a normal human, given that he has nothing better to do than notice such things. Another thing he notices is that the rain that is sure to come down sometime soon will prove an obstacle to him in a way that would also not be shared with any normal humans. If the foliage were any more tropical he could break off a branch and use it as a makeshift umbrella, but unfortunately he appears to be lost in Michigan and not Hawaii. For now, all he can do is march onwards, noticing & wondering about things.

IlIlIlIlIlIlI

Bora was at the museum now, to the relief of the band but unfortunately not their audience, seeing as the first thing he did was officially shut down the Automated Players attraction (but not the animatronics themselves) for the day. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen of Marvin’s Marvelous Mechanical Museum,” he announced, determined to keep a showman’s attitude until the end despite his incredibly messy and unprofessional mechanic’s attire. “Thank you for visiting our beloved Automated Players. My name is Bora Karaca. This will unfortunately be the end of the day’s performances due to some unforeseen circumstances that have arisen, namely the loss of our drummer, Ross. We’ll update you on the situation as soon as it improves, and in the meantime, enjoy your stay here in Tally Hall.” No sooner had he finished giving this theatrically solemn pronouncement than he turned around to give the android band hell for whatever they had got up to while he was working and being an actual productive member of society, Joe. Looking sheepish didn’t appear to be one of their programmed facial expressions, a possibility Bora mentally assigned to the ever-growing pile of “things the robots would probably benefit from eventually/soon.” In the meantime, huddling up and making a game plan would be as good a place to start as any.

IlIlIlIlIlIlI

Ross is getting the impression that if these were any other circumstances he might be having a good time right now. Or at least, he’s trying to tell himself that. He feels like the only one besides Andrew himself who cares in the slightest about the guy’s recently established religion/philosophy/lifestyle thing. Casey’s the most cynical regarding it, claiming Andrew is just the 4th of them to hatch an interest in some specific aspect of human life, try (and fail?) to replicate it wonkily from a robot’s point of view, and then move on after enough time had passed. Ross, apparently being the only one so far to not go through such a thing, decided he didn’t know enough about being human and what that would or would not entail to agree or disagree with that, and supported Andrew’s endeavor all the same. He’s annoyingly irresolute that way. Either way, according to his teachings, Ross’s number one priority should be to live in the now. The first step he decides to take in doing that is figuring out what the “now” even is; specifically pertaining to his current state, and not the concept in general- that can wait until later. Does the “now” include stuff like the rain he’s only marginally capable of protecting himself from, or the stems & branches of the foliage that he’s having to walk through nonstop, or the dim light that makes it all the more difficult to traverse the woods at a steady rate? Or is it more a state of how uncomfortable the rain feels, traveling down his body & surely getting itself encumbered in his circuitry, and how annoying it is to never have a clear path forward & be constantly beset by all number of physical obstacles, and how almost tiring it’s getting, to force himself to be constantly vigilant lest he trip, fall, and get himself even more physically incapacitated, quicker than the rain is making him? Hopefully not any of those- that’d be rather miserable.

IlIlIlIlIlIlI

The marionette quintet was on the move- in a van, no less, it being their standard mode of group transport and all. Armed with some color-coded umbrellas (“I won’t hear any argument about this, you have to keep up a theme”), precisely one lead (“I think I know what happened here” “And what would that be, Andrew?” “Ross was stolen. Probably carried off somewhere over there.” “....Anything else?” “Nope.”), and a mechanic mentally going over every means of surveillance or tracking that could possibly have been used to prevent this from happening, the marionette quartet +1 may not have known what it was doing but it sure was determined to do it well.

IlIlIlIlIlIlI

Count your blessings, every cloud has a silver lining, and some other figure of speech he can’t remember. Ross is thankful the rain hasn’t progressed past a steady drizzle and nothing else at this point. His reasoning for this is simple: any harder rain than this and he probably would’ve lost mobility in his everything long ago. As it stands, though he hasn’t had any time to test anything, he’s getting the impression that his extremities are losing dexterity and his hearing may have ceased to function entirely, which will at the very least mean he can’t play any more songs for the rest of the day. Worst case scenario is: something he is pointedly not considering, either from a genuine inability to do so or an equally genuine desire to not do so- the possibility that he’d be unable to perform his most basic function, playing the drums, for any extended period of time, especially after the band was already incapacitated by Zubin’s deactivation (and really, how badly wounded will the band truly be without him, asks a voice in his head he’s hopefully assuming was also caused by the rain) unsettles him more than he’d like to admit.

IlIlIlIlIlIlIl

“D’you think we’re uh, lucky that it was Ross and not me or Joe who got kidnapped? I mean, we’re both copper, and, no offense, but you’re already pretty damn rusty, man.”

“Non-ne taken.”

“Well, think about it this way; if you or Joe had been taken, you would’ve been easier to track down because you wouldn’t blend into the ground as easily.”

“...Are you saying that because he’s brass & silver or because he’s short. Because, if you’ll notice, Rob, he’s not the only one who comes in shades of brown or gray-

“Hey, I know why I wasn’t taken.”

“And that would be what, Andrew?”

*clang clang* “Well, you know, the pipe? Nobody would be able to carry me around like they would the rest of you.”

“Hang on one minute, how come I wasn’t stolen?”

“I wasn’t aware you were in-nto such, ah, raunchy be-ehaviors, Rob.”

“Shut the fuck up, Joe- I’m made of gold, I wouldn’t corrode out there, I’m a guitarist and a singer; I’m way more valuable than Ross, how come the kidnapper didn’t go after me?”

“Well, if I might come back to an earlier point, it could have something to do with how he ‘blends into the ground’, if you catch my drift.”

“Can you guys please save the height jokes for later, I am trying to concentrate here.”

“N-not on your life, Bora”

IlIlIlIlIlIlI

Now that makes as good a piece of evidence as any to show that Ross has lost his hearing; this random human guy standing a few yards ahead of him sure looks like he’s saying something, but all he’s picking up is muffled static. Whoever it is, it looks to be feeling some incomprehensible combination of awe & annoyance concerning Ross’s general... being. By the looks of things, no matter how many times he tries to reason with it, it will insist on convincing him of whatever it is- coming with him? Going away? Wearing nicer clothes? As stated previously, it’s hard to tell. Ross gives a rattly, mechanical sigh, and says, “Didn’t I already tell you that, li~e, I can’t hear ~hat you’re sayi~? You’re soundi~ really, really quiet and, uh, i~ I can, I’d li~e to ~et ~oi~ so~e~here dry, so I don’t ~et, li~e, rusty, or die, ~ro~ the rain.” Ross hopes he’s being moderately concise because he is, frankly, in a bit of a hurry to be out of the woods, literally & figuratively speaking.

“Y- you what? I'm quiet? Half of your words are cut into bits! And- ok, sure, yeah, we need to get you out of the rain, uh, it sure seems like it’s done some damage to you already, and if I can get you in good condition that’d be pretty cool. God, I’m an idiot, bringing a priceless thing like you out into the woods when it was going to rain, what the hell was I- no, nevermind, I can beat myself up later, God knows my partners will do it plenty, but like, I dropped my wheelbarrow off somewhere when I went to look for you, how am I going to-” It stops itself mid-ramble, to the growing relief of Ross, who is getting almost impatient thanks to how long (how long?) he’s been standing here not hearing this random person talk and not getting out of the rain. Suddenly, it strides forward through the underbrush with a sure haste it hadn’t seemed like it was capable of possessing just a moment ago, grabbing Ross’s hand from where it was attempting to shield his metal skull from the rain, and says, “Oh, perfect! Why didn’t I think of\- ah, ok, you, yeah, um, you, come on, walk with me, follow me, I’ll take you somewhere- somewhere dry, sure, yep, it’ll be plenty dry, probably, and then, uh, there’ll be nothing to worry about! Just- follow me, take my hand even- actually you’re really cold, um, you don’t have to do that, I mean I guess I could pull you, but you’re pretty heavy, (oh, I’d know), so probably- yeah just walk with me and I’ll have you right as- heh, right as rain!”

Ross, understandably, even with his increasingly limited ability to comprehend spoken word (let alone the general world), reacts with general offense. Physically, literally, being an animatronic is one thing, but being thoughtlessly spoken down to by a complete stranger, treated like a child- nay, an object -is more than enough to push him just that much further along the road of exasperation towards infuriation. He sighs, frustrated, bats its hand away, and takes a step back, saying “Listen, I’~ not a child, or an idiot; I’~ not a~out to ~ander o~~ ~ith a co~~lete stranger who see~s ~retty interested in, li~e, steali~, no, ~ait, ~idna~~i~ ~e, or ~ate~er, and at this ~oint I just ~ant to ~et out o~ the rain and see ~y ~and and ~ora and ~asey a~ain, so unless you’ll just- ta~e ~e straight to the ~useu~ right now, I thin~ I’d rather ~ee~ ~oi~ li~e I ha~e ~een, ~ithout your hel~.” Hands fastened squarely above his head once more & with a renewed, exhausted determination filling his struggling body, he turns away and makes to continue walking onwards & outwards.

IlIlIlIlIlIlIl

No more beating around the bush- they were panicked. The rain’s been pouring hard for a while now, Ross has been missing even longer than that, and now they’ve figured out, with proof & everything, that he was well & truly stolen kidnapped. Some guy named Hank who evidently wanted to pawn off the marionette quintet for a high price had gone and taken Ross for that exact purpose. Their new lead was a fellow named Peter who got himself involved in the mixup pretty thoroughly without being an actual culprit, somehow; perhaps his insistence on chronicling his whole interrogation to be retold later could exemplify some busybody-like tendencies hidden within his nerdy outer shell. So Joe theorized. No amount of speculation on his part would make his hypotheses any more sound in the eyes of the rest of the team, but that sure wouldn’t stop him from trying.

IlIlIlIlIlIlI

Ross just stares, a more tired look on his face than ever before. “Really? A taser? In the rain?”

Hank tries in vain to hide the fact that he’s feeling more insecure & anxious than ever before. “Well- you’re a robot and all, right? So this will be extra effective‽ And then I’ll probably have to find my wheelbarrow again to carry you around, but I can do that if I have to. I’m willing to work hard, you know, I’m not lazy.” Ross is already gone. Barely being able to hear what an opponent speaks significantly diminishes one’s incentive to stick around them, it turns out. Besides, if he’s learned anything from his encounter with the strange man, it’s that there’s hopefully a road or something nearby, putting the end of his journey squarely in sight (and not a moment too soon; he gets the feeling he couldn’t move his arms away from above his head if he tried, and his knees are presumably feeling worse than an arthritic’s).

IlIlIlIlIlIlI

God, they had really hit rock bottom if they were calling Casey, hadn’t they? Pulled up at a random pit stop somewhere outside of town, Rob once again on the phone with a marvelous mechanic, Zubin & Andrew nervously chatting, Joe circling the van, and Bora poring over a map & notes, all of them nigh-desperate to get something, anything figured out. “We... have an emergency. We’ve lost our Ross,” said Rob, still doing his best to not sound absolutely dire.

“You’ve... lost Ross? I’m pretty sure he can’t just wander off on his own, did you let him or- can you just tell me the full story?”

“Ah, we woke up about 2, no, 3 hours ago, and we were going to play Spring and a Storm, but Ross was gone, and there was kind of a lot of broken glass in the back of the stage, so we called Bora first, and then we interrogated this guy named Peter, and now we’re at a truck stop.”

“That- so was he stolen? Kidnapped? Why are you at a truck stop?”

“Oh, yeah, Ross was kidnapped by someone named Hank, or something, and we’re pretty sure he got like, dumped off in the middle of the woods outside of town, but we have no idea where, of course so, we basically need a replacement as soon as possible.”

“O-k I’m not making a Ross replacement, this isn’t like what happened with St- nevermind, are you guys going to be out all day or-

“Wait a minute.”

IlIlIlIlIlIlI

.....God only knows what Ross is feeling now. He’s walking, as fast as his small, staggering legs can take him, in the approximate direction that Hank person came from, but he honestly wouldn’t be able to tell if it weren’t for his eyes still occasionally telling him he’s gone somewhere. He’s well out of the woods now, but only literally, because while these more open Michigan plains are easier to look across, the rain easily obscures both the land itself and the quality of said eyes, he’s willing to bet. The more open air also allows the rain to come down even harder on him, even if the storm itself has stopped getting any worse in intensity. Normally the hope that Bora & Casey’s mechanical expertise can fix him up; that his band is crafty and can track him down in good time; that the rain might let up; that he can find somewhere, someone, or something to dry him off with; any of those ideas might be the catalyst for his dogged procession, but right now he’s only barely self-aware to know that his software mind truly cannot handle such things. He is well & truly occupied by the singular drive to keep moving no matter what. It hardly helps that the landscape is so utterly monotonous- maybe this is farmland he’s walking across, maybe that’s a highway in the distance, maybe there are some small trees over there, maybe that’s a hill he’ll have to crest in a bit -he can’t be bothered to turn around, actually scan any horizon, & get his bearings, and that’s only assuming he can if he tries. It’s only as a small fence enters his immediate field of view does he consider looking around and seeing if there’s some way of getting past it without taxing his body any further, but a cursory glance tells him that over it will be his only route up to- a pit stop. At which a small handful of vehicles are parked. Around one of which 4 unnaturally-colored figures & one scruffy one stand with a tense current running through them all. Hm.

IlIlIlIlIlIlI

Joe holds his umbrella high in the air, squinting as much as his mechanical oculi allow him to. “Good n-news, everyone”

IlIlIlIlIlIlI

Can it be called running when your legs don’t half work? Instead, it will be called stumbling, staggering, hobbling, lurching, and ambling, with optional adverbs including unsteadily, hastily, without coordination, jerkily, and stiffly.

IlIlIlIlIlIlI

Rob very nearly abandons his umbrella in his haste to get down the bluff & meet up with his struggling compatriot, but is rather efficiently reminded to bring it by being smacked in the face by Bora’s own as he runs off in the lead.

IlIlIlIlIlIlI

To say there was panic would be an understatement. Regardless, it will be said there was hullabaloo, celebration, relief, and jubilation in most ways following the return of Ross to the group.

IlIlIlIlIlIlI

Ross still doesn’t know how he’s feeling, but he hopes it’s better. Being dry for the first time in effectively as long as he can remember is doing a lot for him even if he can’t do a lot for the people toweling him off. Zubin, as the only member of the band who knows the slightest bit of mechanical first aid, is quick to diagnose Ross with “can’t hear shit” and “can’t say shit” disorders, presumably (hopefully) because any more of a detailed explanation would be literally lost on him. Neither of these diagnoses prevent the rest of the band from almost relentlessly trying to engage him in conversation, but he has no desire to be left alone, and they have no desire to leave him alone, so no harm is seen by it. “Can you at least say anything about who kidnapped you?” asked Bora, the most reasonable thing any of them had uttered since he came back.

“Not in the slightest” was his eloquent response (the first to not feature any missing phonemes, in fact). He continued, less eloquently and far more deliriously, “~an, I don’t re~e~~er anythi~ that ha~~ened right now, I ~as just, li~e, ~al~i~ ~or ~i~e hours or so~ethi~ in that rain, I don’t e-en know how I ended u~ in that ~orest in the ~irst ~lace”

Ross’s speech drifts off, and Joe replies, with unexpected consideration, “Hey, you ke-ep talking like that an-nd we could pro-obably figure out what phon-nemes you’re missing out on-n.”

“Wait, it’s not random?” asked Rob, accidentally prompting 3 of his carmates to start speaking nigh-simultaneously.

“My guess is that, like, 2 types of consonant sounds w-he can make have been rendered inaccessible from water damage-

“I made your guys’ vocal capabilities based on the English phonology, which not only means you’d have a hard time learning another language but would also make figuring out what sorts of sounds he’s missing a lot easier-

“I thought it was kinda obvious that there was a pattern to which sounds he’s not making-

Miraculously, Ross’ voice cut through the din like only that of someone who can’t even hear it could. “Are you ~uys really talki~ a~out ~y, uh, s~eech i~~edi~ent right in ~ront o~ ~e li~e this? I ~ean, it’s not li~e I si~ or anythi~, I’d thin~ the higher ~riority here is ~y, uh, la~ o~ dru~i~ ca~a~ilities.”

IlIlIlIlIlIlI

The wholesome laugh that overtook the car, prompted by his broken statement, worked wonders at dispelling the tension that had been encumbering the band all morning, and gave them the push they needed to truly work on putting the whole debacle behind them. The technical issues could be fixed, relative order could be restored, and all they’d have to worry about is the ever-so-real possibility of something equally chaotic happening all over again someday.

**Author's Note:**

> references index, more or less:  
> the general fic idea: ross loss (tally hall video) & rost (bit from the end of THIS episode 2, death request)  
> hank, as a character: vaguely based on hank from the other way, a j*e h*wley film (and yes, it uses he/it pronouns. sue me)  
> peter, as a character: even more vaguely based on peter, a character from THIS episode 7, 15 seconds of bora  
> the quartet +1 exchange in the van: directly references (or, chronologically speaking, is referenced by) my other ap fic, good day at the museum  
> semi-direct quotations:  
> rob's exchange with casey: ross loss  
> bora's address to the audience: the prerecorded introductory speech used during tally hall's last tour  
> ross's "lines" during his first scene: rost  
> transcription of ross & hank's incomprehensible lines:  
> "Didn't I already tell you that, like, I can’t hear what you’re saying? You’re sounding really, really quiet and, uh, if I can, I’d like to get going somewhere dry, so I don’t get, like, rusty, or die, from the rain.”  
> “Y- you what? I'm quiet? Half of your words are cut into bits! And- ok, sure, yeah, we need to get you out of the rain, uh, it sure seems like it’s done some damage to you already, and if I can get you in good condition that’d be pretty cool. God, I’m an idiot, bringing a priceless thing like you out into the woods when it was going to rain, what the hell was I- no, nevermind, I can beat myself up later, god knows my partners will do it plenty, but like, I dropped my wheelbarrow off somewhere when I went to look for you, how am I going to-”  
> “Oh, perfect! Why didn’t I think of- ah, ok, you, yeah, um, you, come on, walk with me, follow me, I’ll take you somewhere- somewhere dry, sure, yep, it’ll be plenty dry, probably, and then, uh, there’ll be nothing to worry about! Just- follow me, take my hand even- actually you’re really cold, um, you don’t have to do that, I mean I guess I could pull you, but you’re pretty heavy, (oh, I’d know), so probably- yeah just walk with me and I’ll have you right as- heh, right as rain!”  
> “Listen, I’m not a child, or an idiot; I’m not about to wander off with a complete stranger who seems pretty interested in, like, stealing, no, wait, kidnapping me, or whatever, and at this point I just want to get out of the rain and see my band and Bora and Casey again, so unless you’ll just- take me straight to the museum right now, I think I’d rather keep going like I have been, without your help.”  
> “Well- you’re a robot and all, right? So this will be extra effective‽ And then I’ll probably have to find my wheelbarrow again to carry you around, but I can do that if I have to. I’m willing to work hard, you know, I’m not lazy.”  
> “Man, I don’t remember anything that happened right now, I was just, like, walking for five hours or something in that rain, I don’t even know how I ended up in that forest in the first place”  
> “Are you guys really talking about my, uh, speech impediment right in front of me like this? I mean, it’s not like I sing or anything, I’d think the higher priority here is my, uh, lack of drumming capabilities.”  
> ross lost (heh) his labial & velar phonemes, which is not something i expected you to be able to pick up on to on your own, but i do kinda hope the dialogue was at least partially legible for dignity's sake. hank's dialogue is just blacked out at random. i didn't do that for the other band members because it'd be too much of a hassle.


End file.
